The Love of a Host
by Harib0fizzz
Summary: Francis was definitely the best host, but maybe he wasn't so good at falling in love for real. Gilbert and Antonio want to devise a plan to get Francis a girl – nah, boyfriend, but then an interesting visitor is thrown in the mix…FrUK, Spamano, PruAus. Rated T for language.
1. The Drunken Stranger

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia…D'X **

**Summary: Francis was definitely the best host, but maybe he wasn't so good at falling in love for real. Gilbert and Antonio want to devise a plan to get Francis a girl – nah, boyfriend, but then an interesting visitor is thrown in the mix…**

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**Chapter 1 **

A tanned young man leaned back in his chair lazily, closing his eyes and letting the sun from the window shine on his unruly brown hair and warm his calm face. A little bell rang, and the man opened his eyes, revealing sparkling, green orbs that could make any girl's heart flutter. His trademark lazy but cute smile appeared on his face as he saw two women standing across the table from him.

"What can I do for you two lovely ladies?" He asked with a Spanish accent and a grin that made the women swoon slightly.

"Um, we're here to see…Francis?" One of the women asked shyly, and the Spaniard grinned.

"Of course, _un momento, por favor_~" He turned to the open door behind him. "Francis, one for you mi amigo~"

A man about the same age as the Spaniard appeared in the doorway, wearing a white, half-unbuttoned shirt and tight jeans, his long, wavy, golden hair tied back with a dark-blue ribbon. The Spaniard wore similar clothing, but his shirt was black and more than a bit clingy, hugging his abs nicely.

"Ah, _merci_, Antonio~" Francis replied with a flirtatious French accent.

The woman who had stayed quiet before was gazing at Francis, and if she were in an anime, Francis was pretty sure her eyes would be big, pink hearts. The Frenchman flashed a charming smile at the two ladies, before gesturing to a couple of sofas a little way from them.

"Shall we?" The women eagerly followed Francis as he strode over to the chairs.

Antonio watched the Frenchman's practiced performance with a chuckle, before returning to his seat near the entrance to the host-club they were part of. There were three of them, all together. Francis, Gilbert and himself, although Gil had recently gone out to get some more tea for their female company. From his seat, he could hear Francis' unique but strangely enticing laugh, the two young women were blushing and giggling also, one of them covering her mouth delicately as she laughed.

The Spaniard smiled as he watched Francis with his clients – he was by far the best at being a host, but Antonio mainly blamed it on the fact that Gilbert wasn't quite charming enough, and he was already in a relationship himself and didn't want to get too involved with his job right now. Which is why he was sat near the entrance, flashing his charming smiles but not opening himself to his responsibilities as a host anymore.

_Mi tomate wouldn't like it…_

The little bell rang suddenly as the door was shoved open and a man with white hair and dark, almost red eyes entered, grinning. He strode over to Antonio, slamming the newly-purchased tin of tea-bags on the table in front of the Spaniard.

"Yo, Tonio. Any more clients for the awesome me?" He asked cockily, his loud German accent making Francis glance at his companions, before flashing a winning smile and returning to his flirting. Antonio looked apologetic.

"Sorry, _mi amigo_…every client has been requesting Francis recently~" He gestured over to where Francis was holding one of the women's hands to his lips, brushing her knuckles gently before smiling.

Gilbert crossed his arms.

"_Mein gott_, why does he feel the need to pretend he is as awesome as the awesome me?" The German huffed, not admitting that he was just jealous because almost every woman runs away from him, when he's only trying to do his job.

"He's not pretending, _mi amigo_. Maybe he is just more charming than you?"

Gilbert snorted. "_Ah ja_, like that's even possible! No one is more charming than me!"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes in the direction of Francis, pouting stubbornly, while Antonio sighed, shaking his head and smiling at his German friend. The two of them continued to observe as Francis stood up and bid farewell to the two ladies, a thought suddenly crossing both their minds simultaneously.

"He needs a chick." Gil stated, and Antonio gave him a glance. Gilbert looked back and then shrugged. "Okay then, he needs a man…?"

Antonio grinned. "_Si_, he does."

Gilbert didn't like the mischievous gleam in the Spanish friend's eye, and nudged him a little.

"I think Franny can sort out his own love-life, Tonio…" Gil said, and Antonio nodded.

"_Si_, but a little help wouldn't do him any bad, would it?" His innocent smile made Gilbert roll his eyes, before grinning.

"Alright, I'm in. But only because you couldn't pull it off without the awesome me!" Gilbert grinned, shutting up as Francis approached them.

The Frenchman grew suspicious as his two friends fell silent, and frowned slightly. "Were you talking about _moi_?"

He was intrigued, and looked to Antonio who seemed to be the more trustworthy of the two. Both of them merely grinned in response before drifting off to busy themselves with other tasks – Antonio sitting down in his designated seat and shuffling random bits of paper everywhere, and Gilbert…uh…seeing Francis' clients out…sort of.

Francis decided to shrug it off, figuring he'd probably find out sooner or later…

XxX

A depressed, drunk blonde with huge eyebrows was slumped at a barstool, slurring his words and complaining to the world about his "bitch of a girlfriend" who dumped him today, "oh well she was a bitch anyway. Did I mention, she was a complete and utter bloody bitch?!"

The man was clearly English – you could tell from the accent and the way he swore like a soldier – and drunk out of his mind. His Chinese drinking buddy had left a few pints ago, fed up with his drunken rambling about his ex-girlfriend, as he had made so clear multiple times.

The Englishman dragged himself up off the barstool, standing up and swaying a little as he staggered out of the bar, ignoring the advice from the bartender as always.

XxX

Their host-club closed for the day a few hours ago, but Gil, Antonio and Francis always decided to stay behind and hang out together until Antonio's angry, impatient little boyfriend, Lovino, broke the door down, demanding that the "bastard come home right now, because….n-not that he was worried or anything….SHUT UP!"

It was about that time now, and Gilbert and Francis glanced at the clock, before counting down in unison, while Antonio prepared for the verbal abuse he was likely to receive.

"_Trois, deux, un…_"

"_Drei, zwei, ein…_"

A fuming Italian burst through the door.

"_Bastardo!_" He marched over to Antonio, spewing curses in English and Italian, while the Spaniard just smiled lazily, bidding farewell to his amused friends before walking out of the host-club, his Italian boyfriend yelling his ear off.

Francis looked somewhat baffled. "Poor Tonio…it makes you wonder why they put up with each other…I mean Lovino seems to get pissed off by his very existence – " Gilbert laughed. "It's obviously because they are in luuuuuuuurve! _Und_ the sex is probably good too!"

He grinned as Francis' lips curved upwards in amusement at his comment.

"Well," The German rose from his slouching position on one of the sofas, "I'd better be off too. Roddy seems to think he has the right to give the awesome me a curfew…which ended around half an hour ago."

He shrugged, and Francis chuckled, about to respond when the door was roughly shoved open and a stranger leaned against the wall for support. Francis and Gilbert shared a bemused expression, before Gilbert spoke up.

"Excuse me, but I think you've got the wrong place…?"

Francis studied the man. The first thing he noticed were the huge eyebrows, then there was the dirty-blonde hair and emerald green eyes, half-closed, and a rosy tint dusting his cheeks.

"He's another drunk, Gil…" Francis sighed, remembering the last time a random drunk stumbled into the host-club, demanding all manner of things before getting pissy and wrecking the furniture.

"_Mein Gott_, not again." Gilbert groaned.

The stranger knocked into the table to his left, before teetering on the edge of collapse. Seeing this, Francis ran over and was ready to catch the man as he fell into Francis' arms. Gilbert watched with a bemused expression, for this wasn't like Francis.

"Don't just stand there, Gil! Help _moi_!" Francis struggled as he was trying to support the drunk man at an awkward angle. Reluctantly, Gilbert helped Francis to lay the man on one of the cream sofas.

"Well, now what are we going to do?" Gilbert asked, as they both stood, watching the now unconscious man. Francis shrugged.

"We can't turn him out now. Once he wakes up in the morning, he'll go back to wherever he came from." The Frenchman crossed his arms, "But we cannot do anything else now…"

Gilbert turned to look at Francis, his almost-crimson eyes filled with a sudden concern. "Will you be alright?"

Francis met his gaze, knowing why Gilbert was concerned.

Francis had been renting the room above the host-club for a while now, and when the last drunk came in, it was in the middle of the night and he had attacked Francis. The Frenchman later had to go to hospital, and Gilbert and Antonio had stayed with Francis for a few weeks afterwards, just to make sure it didn't happen again.

"Oui, I'll be fine…He doesn't seem like the aggressive type…" Francis glanced at the sleeping man's face thoughtfully.

"I'm not too sure." The German stubbornly crossed his arms. "I'll stay here with you tonight." His tone was decisive, and Francis knew not much could be said to sway him.

"But what about Roderich?" The Frenchman asked, and Gilbert stiffened a little in realisation.

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure he'll be fine with it. I'll send him a text to let him know he'll have to go without my awesome presence for one night!" He grinned, his tone cocky, but they both knew that Roderich got paranoid whenever Gil was away for a long period of time. Even one night was too long, and it had caused many arguments between them before.

"If you're sure…" Francis replied, shrugging. So the two of them went upstairs, not bothered by the fact that there was only one bed, as they'd known each other long enough to cope with it, and besides…worse things had happened before.

Halfway up the stairs, Francis had another thought and collected a blanket, draping it gently over the stranger, before turning the lights off and joining Gilbert upstairs for the night.

XxX

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**A/N: Okay so, I wasn't trying to make France and Prussia a pairing, but yeah. Anyway, this is the first chapter of a hopefully worth-reading story! PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Finally Woken Up

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter 2**

Francis woke to find Gil's arm casually draped over his waist in his sleep. He sighed, before nudging the German gently. Gilbert made a noise of protest, before opening his eyes. Realising their situation, he took his arm away.

"Sorry, too used to being next to Roddy…" He mumbled, but neither of them were embarrassed as, in their minds, there wasn't much to be embarrassed about. Francis sat up, his hands immediately going to fix his hair, and Gil watched with amusement.

"_Mein Gott_, you are such a girl~" He teased, making Francis grin at him in return.

"You're just jealous of my exquisite hair~" He retorted, making the German snort.

"Your _prissy_ hair is no match for my awesomeness!" Gilbert declared, grinning as Francis swatted him gently on the arm.

The Frenchman stood up, collecting his robe from the back of the door and putting it on. Gil, who had just been sleeping in the clothes he wore yesterday, merely tucked his shirt back in, shrugging.

"That'll do." He decided, and Francis wrinkled his nose. Gilbert sent him a 'Don't tell Roddy' look and Francis smiled.

"Let's see if our guest has woken up yet~" The Frenchman was curious about the stranger, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

The German laughed. "I'll get some pans and bang them in the fucker's ear!" Francis rolled his eyes.

"You didn't like that when Roderich did that to you, did you?" He reasoned, raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert only made a face, mimicking Francis before trudging downstairs, Francis following behind. The Frenchman smiled at his friend's immaturity, before Gil scoffed.

"The lazy _dummkopf_ is still asleep." He said matter-of-factly, scowling at the sleeping man. Francis tilted his head to the side, noticing how cute the man looked. Gil noticed this and rolled his eyes, nudging him. The Frenchman pouted, before sighing.

"Go make him some coffee, _et_ I'll wake him up, _oui_?" Francis instructed, glancing at the still-sleeping stranger. The German sighed, about to protest, before deciding against it and trudging to the small kitchen in the host-club.

The Frenchman cautiously approached the man lying on the sofa, as he got closer he could see the man had huge eyebrows, but under them he was actually quite handsome. His dirty-blonde hair fell perfectly in front of his face, and the hint of a relaxed expression captivated Francis, but he had no idea why this stranger was having such an effect on him.

"Hey, _Princess_. He's never going to wake up if you keep staring at him." Gilbert said teasingly, setting the newly made cup of coffee on the table next to the stranger. Francis stuck his tongue out at Gil, before the little bell at the entrance rang.

The German frowned in irritation. "We're not open yet." He snapped, before recognising the visitor and the 'you're-in-deep-_sheiβe_-now' look he had brought with him, all his cocky remarks temporarily vanishing as the seething man walked straight up to Gilbert.

Francis, knowing what was going to happen but deciding to try and intervene anyway, greeted the man. "Good morning, Roderich…" he started, but one look from Roderich silenced the Frenchman. Gilbert remembered that he had not texted his boyfriend/friend/person he was leaching off for food and shelter as he had intended, and now it seemed that said man was not very pleased.

Roderich was a rather proud man, who moved here with Gilbert from Austria, on the German's insistence. They had been living here for about three years now, but Roderich still didn't feel too comfortable if Gilbert was not with him. Which was why the proud Austrian now looked so pissed off.

"Where have you been?" Roderich demanded, the strange little flick in his brown hair bobbing slightly as he approached Gilbert. The albino raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"Calm down, Roddy. Don't get your knickers in a twist~" Gil replied, but the darkening of Roderich's already angered expression told him that was not the best thing he could've said in that moment. And the slap across the cheek he received only confirmed his theory. Gilbert took a step back, stunned from the sheer force of Roderich's hand. Switching to German so that Francis couldn't understand, the Austrian began yelling at the albino, who yelled back, and soon the room was filled with German insults and the odd profanity that Francis happened to know the translation for.

Looking at the stranger still lying on the sofa, Francis wondered how he could be sleeping through such a loud argument, but that would probably be due to how much alcohol the man had last night. Francis was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a plate shattering on the floor. He looked up to see Roderich wrenching the front door open and storming out onto the street. Gilbert sent an apologetic look to the Frenchman, before hurriedly running after the seething Austrian. Francis merely sighed, knowing that Gil will come back to the host-club later, drunk out of his mind. Roderich would then show up to take him home, apologising for his earlier behaviour.

_It was the same routine…_Francis observed as he knelt down to clear up the broken plate pieces.

_Who would've thought love would be so expensive, _the Frenchman thought as he sighed at the good-quality, patterned china-plate. _Well, Roderich can afford to be in love, because he's one of the richest guys' around…but for the rest of us, is it possible to love et not have much money? _

Francis knew it was a borderline ridiculous thought, but it did hold an element of logic within it as well. He heard a groan behind him, breaking him out of his pondering. He turned to see the man stirring, sleepily dragging one eye open to reveal a startling emerald green that surprised Francis. Upon seeing the Frenchman, the stranger sat up too quickly, wincing at the protest from his head.

"Bloody hell…" He grumbled in an unmistakable accent, making Francis smile.

_Ah, an Englishman…_

"Where on earth…?" The stranger looked around the host-club, and then back to Francis. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his hostile tone not fazing the Frenchman.

"You've finally woken up~" he smiled, but the Englishman only got annoyed by his stating the obvious.

"Yes, I can see that." He snapped back, his hangover making sure he was not in the best of moods at all. "Where am I?" he repeated, furrowing his brow as he waited for the answer.

The Englishman's terrible mood only amused Francis, who gestured to the formal furniture and posh, expensive tea-sets that were on the counter, waiting to be dished out.

"_The Roses Host-club_~" Francis replied simply, and the Englishman tried to hide his blush.

"What the bloody hell am I doing in a host-club?!" He demanded, but the Frenchman only shrugged.

"My guess is you stumbled in here by accident last night, after…a rough day, perhaps?" his look was questioning, and the Englishman's eyes widened as he remembered he had gone to the bar in a fit of rage, complaining about his recently former-girlfriend.

"You could say that…" he admitted, not wanting to tell this obviously French stranger about his shitty love-life. Francis' expression told the man he had more to his 'guess', but was content with keeping it to himself. The Englishman cleared his throat as he rose from the plush sofa.

"I suppose I should thank you for your kindness…and apologise for my idiocy."

Francis chuckled. "Idiocy?"

"Well, yes. I should know better than to go to a bar on my own…" He extended a hand. "Thank you, Mr…?"

"Bonnefoy, Francis Bonnefoy~" Francis stood, shaking the other's hand. "_Et toi_?"

The Englishman looked puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

Francis smiled as he learnt this Englishman didn't know much French. "And you are?" he repeated in English for the stranger.

"Arthur Kirkland." He introduced himself, feeling stupid for not knowing much basic French. Francis held onto Arthur's hand for a fraction longer than he would've liked, but the ringing of the bell at the entrance stopped the Englishman from making a comment.

"_Hola, mi amigo_~" Antonio greeted, waltzing through the door cheerily with his jacket over his shoulder, dumping it on the chair and stopping when he saw Arthur. Raising his eyebrow in a questioning manner, he looked at Francis for an explanation as to this stranger's – and male stranger at that's – presence. Both Francis and Arthur stood awkwardly for a moment, before Antonio broke out in a grin.

"Francis, may I talk to you for _un momento_?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he pulled Francis into the backroom. Hastily shutting the door, the Spaniard turned to face Francis with a stupid grin on his face.

"Who was that?" Antonio asked, his tone more encouraging, as if he were trying to coax Francis into telling him, rather than sounding annoyed at the fact that a stranger was distracting the Frenchman and Spaniard from setting up for their guests of that day. Francis rolled his eyes at his friend's misperception.

"His name's Arthur, _et_ he stumbled in here drunk last night…" the Frenchman began, making the Spaniard's green eyes darken a little.

"Did he – " he began, but Francis interrupted him.

"Do you think he'd still be here if _that_ had happened?" he hissed, not wanting Arthur to hear them. "Of course not. He pretty much collapsed as soon as he staggered through the door, _et_ Gil stayed with _moi_ anyway." Francis sighed, knowing how protective his seemingly care-free friends could really be.

"I'm sorry…" Antonio's expression was a little ashamed. "I just thought…"

"I know, it's alright." Francis finished with a smile, before opening the door again, looking around for the Englishman but finding that Arthur had left, probably because he was embarrassed about the entire situation. There was a note on the counter that Francis assumed was from Arthur, as it only said: 'Thank you for all you've done.' But it was enough to make Francis smile, although he didn't know why.

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**A/N: I'm really sorry for not updating but recently my laptop got a virus and had to be prepared, but i managed to get this chapter up as promptly as I could! **

**Reviews are very welcome~ **


	3. Come back et see moi again

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter 3**

The last customer of the day smiled as she bid farewell to Francis.

"Come back _et_ see _moi_ again, _cheri_~" Francis flashed his winning smile and winked at her, making the woman blush and nod frantically before leaving, the door closing gently behind her. Francis smiled to himself: despite recent events and the absence of Gilbert all day, the day had gone relatively well. The Frenchman sauntered over to the counter, which Antonio sat behind, counting the last of the tips Francis had earned.

"Well?" he asked casually, grabbing a chair to sit beside Antonio. The Spaniard grinned at him.

"You beat your record yet again, _mi amigo_~" he replied. "At this rate, you'll be able to afford that new place in no time~" Francis smiled at this news, as he had been saving up for a little apartment for a while. Antonio and Gil had offered to lend him some money for it, before the Frenchman had refused to accept any of it. Francis wanted to do this by himself, and so far he was making a promising amount of money from the tips of his generous clients.

Both hosts raised their heads as the door was flung open, and a second drunkard stumbled into the host-club, only this one was albino, German, and depressed out of his mind. As Francis had predicted earlier, Gilbert had had further arguments with Roderich, and spent the rest of the day in the local bar, before returning to the host-club. Having heard the situation explained to him previously, Antonio rushed to support his German friend, while Francis rearranged the cushions on the sofa with practised ease. The Frenchman and Spaniard were now used to Gilbert's predictable routine, and they knew that the Austrian would be here soon to collect the German, reluctantly pitying Gil and taking him home with him.

Francis and Antonio gently led Gilbert over to the sofa, not paying any mind to the albino's drunken mumblings about how guilty he felt and how 'Roddy' must think he was such a _dummkopf_. Laying him down carefully, Antonio chuckled light-heartedly.

"Some things never will change, will they _mi amigo_?" The Spaniard turned to Francis, but said Frenchman was no longer listening to him, as his thoughts began to wonder back to the Englishman he had finally learnt the name of: Arthur Kirkland.

XxX

It had been 3 months since Francis had met Arthur, but he hadn't seen the other man since. The usual host-club routine had not been majorly interrupted, except for the countless minor disputes Gilbert and Roderich had had involving a few times when the three hosts had gone out drinking and the Austrian clearly didn't approve, or sometimes Gilbert had simply not thought before he spoke. Francis wondered how the two of them were still together, but when Francis asked Antonio about it, the Spaniard chuckled, spilling some nonsense about 'love makes you crazy'.

Francis had gone out with a few girls in the past, but if they had any minor disagreement, Francis would break it off without a second thought. The Frenchman had never been in a serious, committed relationship, and from what he saw of his friends' love-lives, he was not too sure he wanted to.

XxX

Arthur sighed as he closed the door to his apartment behind him, dumping his coat on the back of an old armchair.

_Great. Just great. _

The Englishman thought sarcastically as he poured himself a stiff whiskey. Arthur had just been fired from his job and now he had no idea how he was going to come up with enough money for this month's rent. Falling back into the chair, Arthur downed his drink in one, slamming his glass on the side-table and hating himself for screwing everything up all the time. He couldn't hold a job, he was terrible at relationships and was not even able to love like you were supposed to in films and such. He was going to lose this place and have nowhere else to go…

_Shit. _

XxX

"Francis, we're out of tea. Can you go get some, please?" Antonio asked from behind the counter.

"_Oui_~" The Frenchman replied, grabbing some money and his coat and stepping outside. As soon as Francis disappeared from his view, the Spaniard went to the backroom, where Gil was texting someone, lounging casually on the old sofa they had in there.

Hovering in the doorway, Antonio cleared his throat to notify Gil of his presence.

"I have an idea~" The Spaniard began, and Gil tore his eyes away from the phone screen reluctantly.

"For what?" Was the German's response, and Antonio dramatically rolled his eyes as Gil glanced at his phone again.

"Francis' birthday, you _idiota_!" He stole Gil's phone off him swiftly, so he could have the German's full attention. The German sighed.

"Well, what's your idea then, _dummkopf_?" he retorted, picking up on the fact that his friend had previously insulted him, and thinking he should return the favour. Antonio frowned at him, before continuing.

"We take him out the clubs, and then, for presents, we can give him a gift of money for his apartment!"

Gilbert smirked. "And where would we get the money for that?" There was silence, but Antonio was looking at Gilbert intently.

"_Nein_, not happening. 'Tonio I can't!" Gilbert stated, avoiding the Spaniard's gaze.

"Oh, come on. Just this once, Gil~" Antonio pleaded, making Gilbert grit his teeth.

"You can't…he'll think I'm only using him for his money!" No matter how it appeared, Gilbert did honestly love and care for his coincidentally loaded Austrian boyfriend. Antonio was about to protest again, but Gil put forward another point before he could. "Besides, Roddy doesn't even _like_ Francis." The albino sat back and crossed his arms triumphantly, but Antonio wouldn't be swayed.

"So you would rather Francis stay here and encounter more violent drunkards?" The Spaniard knew that Gil was more worried about Francis continuing to live above the host-club than the Frenchman himself after the previous incident, and could see that his words had registered as Gil's shoulders stiffened slightly. They were both silent for a few moments, until Gil let out a breath.

"Fine…I'll talk to Roddy…" the albino mumbled, and Antonio grinned.

"_Gracias, mi amigo_~"

Gilbert just huffed. "I thought he said he didn't want any help, anyway?"

Antonio shrugged, wearing a mischievous grin. "He has no choice but to accept the money if it is a birthday present~" he replied simply, but Gil only had a chance to smirk before the little bell at the front entrance rang again.

"I'm back~" Francis' voice summoned Antonio back to the counter.

"Ah, _gracias, mi amigo_~" the Spaniard smiled, ignoring the questioning looks Francis was giving him as said Frenchman handed over the newly purchased tea-bags.

_I hope Gil will be convincing enough…_Antonio wished.

_And I hope Lovi will let me give a small gift of money away…_

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**A/N: and that was that chapter! Woo for quick(ish) updating! …yay~…just me? Okay then…**

**Reviews are really appreciated!**


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